


Sentimentality

by tielan



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seasons, silliness, and sentimentality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> Never written Elementary before. Trying it on for size.

A dusty film of snow had covered over the worst of New York City, giving the streets an almost Dickensian feel.

“Sentimentality, Watson,” said Sherlock when she voiced this opinion to him one evening as they walked through the streets on their way back from the most recent rehabilitation meeting. “Unalloyed sentimentality to think that a covering of frozen water makes the ugliness of the world any more palateable.”

“It makes it look better at least,” Joan remarked as she tucked her hands deeper into her pockets. The wind had a bit of bite – hardly unusual at this time of year. “Should I call you ‘Scrooge’?”

“As a matter of fact, I have no objection to Christmas _per se._ Granted, I dislike the intense tweeness of the holiday, the obligatory conventions of enforced gift-giving, and the endless repeat of carols anywhere there’s a gathering of people who might be induced to attempt to mitigate their guilty feelings of relational inadequacy through the purchase and presentation of lavish gifts. However Christmas itself is not a problem.”

“That’s a detailed critique of something to which you have no objection,” Joan teased. It would have been a detailed critique for anyone else. For Sherlock, it wasn’t exactly unusual.

“Actually, it’s a way of indicating that I won’t object if you wish to decorate the house. Or, at least the common living spaces.”

There were times when it was frustrating to have no secrets – or, at least, to be read so easily. “Was it the way I looked at the neighbours’ door wreath?”

“That and your observation of the Hemingways across the street this morning,” Sherlock glanced at her. “Although you were careful to avoid the mistletoe hanging in the doorway of the meeting room. I applaud your sense; those things are full of nargles.”


End file.
